It's A Good Story...And It's Mine

I'm adopted. I've always known it. Hearing the story of how I came to my mom and dad was as natural to me as hearing your own birth story is your "normal".

I knew I was born in Seattle. I remember being told of the phone call my parents received telling them that there was a little girl in need of a home. My mom always told me that although she would never give birth, she knew that she would be a mother.

I had had some medical problems and was not released from the State of Washington for adoption until the problems were resolved. I got better and my parents were handed a healthy, 10 month old daughter.

Time passed and I was faced with the normal adoption "wonders". I would fill out medical records, and I had to write "unknown" on my side of the sheet. I didn't know what medical history was in my family, and I didn't like that my kids wouldn't know either. I think it is such a roadblock that medical history isn't a legal aspect of the adoption process. I would wonder about my medical history. I wondered who I looked like. I wondered what my story was. I wondered and wondered and wondered.

I had tossed around the idea to find my biological mother when I was younger, but I had always questioned why I wanted to know. Was I being rebellious? Was I being selfish? What did I wish to gain from the knowledge? I would analyze my answers and always felt that I fell short. The timing was never right. I'm usually uncomfortably afraid of the unknown so maybe I was afraid? Whatever the reasoning, I didn't ever move forward in my quest for my bloodlines.

When I turned 40 I decided that I was ready to find my biological family. I really believed that I had no selfish interest in finding them. I can't really tell you what I expected. I think that I thought it would be like joining a club. You know. Meet some people that you like, add them to the Christmas card list, remember them on important occasions...I was wrong.

I made phone calls to the state of Washington where I was born. I made phone calls to the state if Idaho where I was adopted. Washington was willing to help, but I had a closed adoption and my records were held by the state of Idaho and in 60 years not a single adoption had been opened. I posted my information on several websites established to help adoptees find their biological families. A year passed and I was not any further than when I had started.

I had put together a file of my adoption information and I pulled it out one day to go through the paperwork and see if I could drum up more ideas. My mom and dad had given me the paperwork that they received from the courts when my adoption was finalized. I studied one of the legal size documents with tiny printing and there it was. I'm sure it was a mistake but written in the document in fine, fine print were the words "baby girl Vermeire".

I remember freezing up. I called Mark and told him the news. Then I got nervous and I didn't do a thing. 

Mark got tired of waiting on me, and while he was on the road one day, he pulled up a search on his cell phone for the Vermeire name. He came up with a list of names and phone numbers in Washington, Oregon and California. True to Mark's nature, he started calling. I don't know how many calls he had made before he called to tell me he wasn't having any luck reaching people. He was getting answering machines so he was LEAVING A MESSAGE with the details of my adoption and a request that they call him. I had to put the kabosh on that one. Can you imagine checking your machine and getting that message?

Mark promised not to leave anymore messages. He placed a call to one of the numbers. It rang and rang. He was just getting ready to hang up when the phone was answered. He told the story and the woman said that "if anyone in my family knows about this, it would be grandma Norma". She graciously gave Mark the phone number to Norma and hung up. Mark called Norma and was able to relate the story to her. Without missing a beat, Norma said "My God, she's Pearls." Mark said it made his hair stand on end. He had found my family. After Norma (my Aunt) and Mark talked for a while and exchanged contact information, he called me. When we got to the part of the conversation when he said "I found your Mom", I sunk to my knees in complete shock.  I wish I could describe the feeling that came over me. My eyesight blurred and my hands went numb. I found myself taking gulping breaths and yet felt as if I was being deprived of oxygen. It was surreal.

There was a process that followed to contact Pearl. I won't go into details of the "why" but regrettably my biological mother chose not to meet with me. I was devastated. Mark was pushing for me to locate my biological father, but I was not having it. I feared the rejection.

Time passed and I began dreaming about my dad. I would wake up in the night crying. I began moping around the house tired and an emotional wreck. My family was fed up with my behavior and one day Mark asked what it was that I wanted. I thought about it for a bit and finally asked him to quietly go about finding my dad, but he was NOT to let me know what he was doing or how it was going. I designated him as the mediator. He was to do what he could to find my father and if he found him, I was not to know unless it was possible for us to meet. Otherwise, the subject was never to be brought up.

Enter Aunt Norma, again. I don't really know the steps that led Mark back to her, but he ended up making another phone call to her. He asked Norma for any information on my Dad, and come to find out, he lived about a mile from Norma and her husband Henry. (Little note of information here, Henry is my mom's brother.) Not wanting to risk any conflict, Norma requested that she be able to go talk to my Dad and make sure that he wanted to be found. If he was in agreement, she would leave Mark's number.

I might be wrong, but I believe that Mark received a phone call from my dad that night. They talked and exchanged stories and information. I was lost in my oblivion while all of this was going on. 

Mark gave my phone number and the following day my phone rang. (My side story is that I have a graphics client that had contacted me a couple of days before requesting his logo in a specific format. I had emailed him the logo the day before. My clients' name is Bob.)  I was working at a magazine one week a month and it happened to be my work week. My cell phone rang and after I said "hello" the caller said "This is Bob Allen". Funny how your brain begins working and mine was thinking "I emailed him yesterday, I wonder what is going on with the file." When I suddenly hear "I understand that I am your biological father." What? My head began buzzing. I couldn't hear the rest of the conversation. I stepped outside, sat in the grass and had a conversation with him, but I honestly don't remember any of it. I do remember getting his call-back information and politely saying "Thank you for calling" and ending the call.

I immediately dialed Mark. He happened to be home (which is a miracle in itself as he drives long haul and is always gone). He asked me questions and I couldn't answer them. I swear I was in shock. It was so surreal. Within a few minutes, Mark picked me up to go to lunch. I was FREAKING out. Not in the screaming-crying-yelling sort of way. I was dead silent. While headed to lunch, Mark said "Don't you think you should call him back?" I didn't know what to say. How do you fill in 41 years of history? I didn't know where to start and really didn't know what he thought about me entering into his life. I suddenly realized that I did have selfish interest in finding my family. I wanted to know them for ME. I wanted to fill in the gaps in my life. I wanted MY questions answered and I really, really, really wanted a relationship. I wanted to rid my thoughts of the rejection I felt and fill the holes with love. I wanted this to be more than another name added to my Christmas card list. And I really didn't know if this was a good thing or not. 

I called Bob back, but I think he was as freaked out as I was. He is not the type of guy to make waves and neither am I. In fact, if it weren't for Mark and Arlene (Bob's wife) we probably STILL wouldn't have met. Those two got on the phone and made a plan to meet "the day-after-tomorrow". After 41 years, I was about to have many of my questions answered. I was going to meet my dad in two days. Bob and Arlene live in White Salmon, Washington which is about 12 hours from where I live. Mark's dad lives in Caldwell, Idaho and is about the half-way point between the two of us. We were going to Caldwell and they would meet us there Friday evening.

I got home that evening and told my story to anyone that would listen. I talked to the kids. Tyson and Goose had work and Shelby had a dance performance that she could not get out of. Mark, Jaden, Tanna (along with a friend of Tanna's) and myself loaded up Friday morning and headed to meet my dad. I have a nervous habit of biting the skin around my fingernails. I nibbled and gnawed on my hands for 6 hours. By the time we arrived at Mark's dad's house, my fingers were bloody and I was a wreck.

Every insecurity and doubt that I had ever thought streaked through my mind. What if he doesn't like me? What if he is disappointed in me? What if he really doesn't want a relationship? There was the other stuff too. What if I don't like him? What if it hurt him too much to know me and he left me? Why did he let me go for adoption? Was I going to be mad at him for it? To say I was a mess would be an understatement. I was scared to death to meet him. Minutes slowly ticked by, then all of sudden it was time to head to the hotel to meet with Bob and Arlene. I was going to meet my dad.

It was only a couple of miles to our meeting place, but it seemed like another 6 hour drive. My heart was racing and my thoughts were out of control. I was nearing a panic attack when we pulled into the hotel, went around back to park the car and THERE THEY WERE. They were in the parking lot walking their dogs. I slowly got out of the car and began walking toward him. I wasn't going to cry. I didn't want to cry. I wanted to be mature and grown-up about this. Guess what? I cried. He reached out and when he pulled me into his mighty hug and I wept. 

We met on April 14, 2006. We just shared our 6th anniversary. I have loved every minute of it. I have my dad and my heart feels like there was never a gap in our lives. It just fits. I was able to go to Washington in June of 2002. I have brothers and sisters! I met aunts and uncles and cousins and the thing that is REALLY cool is that my family on my mother's side live in the same area as my dad. We had a huge barbecue and I met and met and met so many of my relatives. I jokingly tell people that it felt like a petting zoo - that people came to see the "display".  That's really not true. The connection was instant. The moment I hugged my Uncle Eddie and Aunt Alice I knew I was right where I belonged. After some of my cousins left, I remember turning to Mark and saying "We would have been really close if we had grown up together".

I have found a perfect peace and acceptance in this wonderful family...MY family. I have traits that are built in me that are "so Vermeire" or "so much like Dad". I love, love, LOVE to sit and listen to the stories they share about their childhood or my Granparents and family members I haven't been able to meet. I try so hard to remember names and events. I fall short, but they just giggle and remind me of the who-is-who-and-what-is-what.

I now have a really long Christmas list. I like that. I have heard my history and that's pretty cool, too. It's a good story...and it's mine.